


Strangest encounters make the funniest stories

by Orlha



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Suits (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-05-01 03:29:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 39
Words: 17,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5190497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orlha/pseuds/Orlha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr prompts & Plot bunnies that lurk in tumblr revolving around MCU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dear God in heaven, please don't let me die to a Katy Perry song

**Tumblr prompt - "Dear God in heaven, please don't let me die to a Katy Perry song"**

“Dear God in heaven, please don't let me die to a Katy Perry song,” Bucky mumbles and groans as he tries to pry himself off the floor. He’s stuck to the floor by a column that’s piled column over column over that column that’s pinning him down. Had he been a normal human, he would probably be cold, dead and … well… dead, but he’s not. He’s partially super soldier with that shitty cocktail that the Hydra had attempted to create and for the first time in the whole seventy years that he’s been living, Bucky wishes really hard that Hydra had actually succeeded the damn cocktail. Steve wouldn’t have such trouble as he was having.

He jerks, trying to break free from the column or at least destroy the goddamn radio. The Katy Perry song, that he doesn’t know what it is, plays on a goddamn loop and he succeeds in hitting the radio but not in destroying it. Now it doesn’t play the entire song in a loop, it plays a whole damn five seconds. Hearing the _supernatural, extra-terrestrial_ is getting tiresome. He feels the slow pool of warm liquid trickling down his back and down his waist.

Definitely stuck through in the gut.

Bucky wishes he had heeded Steve’s warning or at least paid more attention when the stupid Hawkeye decided to shoot the bomb in mid-air. Well no point crying over spilt milk now. He tries to pushes his body up and finds a numbness in his body. He might have miscalculated his injuries. The leg that is hurting pretty bad might actually be a good eight out of a scale of ten instead of a three that he had originally assessed.

“S-Steve?” he tries the comms again. There is no response apart from the static. Bucky would have pulled his phone out to attempt to call, but he can’t seem to move his fingers, let alone his arm. Even his lips are numb now.

_James “Bucky” Barnes_

_Died while trying to pull an asshole out of his asshole_

_10 March, 1917 – 20 July 2015_

_Don’t ever play Katy Perry at his funeral_

Then the radio that had tortured him with Katy Perry’s _supernatural, extra-terrestrial_ for the God knows how long moments finally sputters off and leaves him in a silence.

Misery no longer loves company, it insists on it.

Bucky wonders if this is going to be his last mission. Bucky wonders if he’s going to wake up to a bunch of scientists with his other arm this time or perhaps one of his leg.

It’s getting hard for him to stay awake. There is a slowness and cold inching into the core of him. He tries to shift his position or at least knock something so someone would know he’s down here, beneath the pile of debris but finds the only thing he can do now is to keep awake.

“S-teve...” he mumbles inaudibly.

The sudden glare of sunlight blinds him and so does the sudden lightness from his body.

“Bruce! Hulk! We need Bruce now. Tin-Man needs Bruce,” a masculine voice urges impatiently as the silhouettes hover over him.

“Hulk understand.”

Bucky is barely awake now and decides if he’s going to die, he’s going to let them know not to play the goddamn Katy Perry. He doesn’t care how much Thor and Steve loves her, he’s _not_ going to have _that_ played at his funeral.

“G-damn… Katy… Perry…” is all he gets out before the darkness takes him in.

\----

He wakes up surrounded in a whole bunch of tubes including the one that’s going up his dick. It’s unanimously decided that _that_ tube up his dick is _horrifying_ uncomfortable. He can’t move a finger, he can’t even blink but _DEAR GOD PLEASE TAKE IT OUT._ Bucky tries to communicate to whoever is sitting beside him in morse code but there is no reaction. It might be because the person is an idiot and apparently didn’t learn Spy 101 and memorize the morse code or he might not be tapping as hard as he think he is.

And then whoever who is sitting beside him who is most definitely either Steve or Thor starts playing Katy Perry.

“HOLY SHIT TURN THAT SHIT OFF!” He barks.The person leans over him. Bucky blinks, his eyes trying to adjust to the dizziness and spots dancing across his vision and he takes in the blond hair. “Turn that fucking shit off,” he demands again. His voice is a helluva lot weaker than he had ever remembered it to be and this includes that summer of ‘38 where he was struck by pneumonia.

The person concedes and finally turns the bleeding song off, his hand taking Bucky’s own hand. Bucky remembers this hand. Even larger and more calloused than it was in the summer of ‘38, Bucky remembers it.

“Steve.” He acknowledges.

“Bucky.”

“Never play Katy Perry in my presence. Ever again.”

 


	2. Taichi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When May was gone for six months, Daisy didn’t like suddenly having to do Tai Chi in the mornings alone, so she talked Mack into doing it with her, who in turn got Hunter in on it.

**Headcanon by[Agentsofthemcu](http://luna-orlha.tumblr.com/post/132809022645/headcanon)**

“Why the bloody hell am I waking at 5am in the morning again?” Hunter groused with more than half of his body being pulled into the gym by Mack.

“Because it’s Tai Chi time.”

“Tai- What? Tai  _CHI_ time? Since when!?”

“Since wednesday? You agreed to it.”

“I don’t remember that. We were drinking and you… YOU TRICKED ME!”

Mack grinned, “But you said yes. Are you going to back out from it? Because I told S- Daisy.”

“This promise doesn’t hold unless-” He tugs his shirt from Mack’s grip and points indignantly at him.

“Oh good you two are here. Are you ready?” Daisy smiles from the doorway.

Hunter opens and closes his mouth and remembers Daisy was there for Bobbi and with a great large sigh, he replies, “Yes.”


	3. Undying Soulmate AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr - [Undying soulmate au](http://luna-orlha.tumblr.com/post/132663467765/gabys-san-only-thougth-in)

Snow. It’s Christmas again. Outside he can see the families troop down the pavements, he hears the church bells toil, the carollers singing at the corners. His neighbours are cooking turkey and brussel sprouts. They’ll offer him a portion again despite the fact that they know that he would decline them again. He has declined them for fifteen years but it hasn’t stopped them.

It is not that he hates Christmas. No. Steve doesn’t hate Christmas. He only hates the memories it brings. He hates remembering spending it with Peggy and the Howling Commandos, he hates it that it was Christmas that Bucky finally met Natasha, his soul mate, under a mistletoe and it feels like it had robbed him of everything.

Steve has forgotten how long he had lived. The only thing he does know is that he had watched the woman he once loved fall in love and grow old then eventually passing away. They all did. Dum Dum, Gabe even Bucky. Steve thinks that he might be doomed to be young forever. He thinks he might never die from old age, so he throws himself into mission after mission, war after war, hoping and praying he’d finally run out of serum to knit him back together and that he’d finally meet death.

He doesn’t and when Bucky along with Natasha finally passes away, Steve forgets even how to cry. Time has robbed him of everything that he had held dear. Yes he might have made new friends like the petite scientist soul mate that Thor, his team mate dragged into the communal room once but they weren’t the same. They were new and all the _new_  ever did was remind him of what he had lost. 

Steve traces the faces of the last picture they together, trying his best to remember their laughter. There are days where he finds it difficult to even remember Peggy’s face anymore. It had been such a long time ago.  

The doorbell rings, it should be the Mrs Sousa asking him to join them for the Christmas dinner. Always without fail, she would ask him. Already anticipating her, he doesn’t even bother checking as he swings the door open to let her in. Except it’s not Mrs Sousa but a face full of tree.

A Christmas Tree.

“Oh goody, my arms was starting to ache while carrying it up. 32B right?” The dark haired female peers through the branches of the large tree she’s carrying before breaking into a large grin. “So Thordy-son was supposed to bring the tree on Thorsday, but he had Janey got *ahem*  _distracted_. So I brought the tree instead because his dear old brother, Loki couldn’t be bothered. Anyway Janey’s bringing the food along with the decos. I brought some lights so we could put them all nice and pretty.” She rambles on and how she had said all that in one breath is beyond Steve’s imagination, except the words that wind down his thigh are those very exact words. 

He stares at her startled, his heart hiccuping his chest as he struggles to say something -  _anything,_  to her. His mind draws a blank.

“Boy are you quiet. Thor told me you didn’t speak much but I didn’t think he meant literally.”

“Do you always carry Christmas trees into stranger’s houses?” Steve snarks back before his mind could stop him and she stills. Turns to him, her blue eyes catching his as she gapes at him. Steve can’t help but notice her bright red lips offsetting her pale complexion and God, was she beautiful. He steps up to her, leaning down to her and as he is about to ask for permission to kiss her, she tilts up and captures his lips with her. Her eyes fluttering close, his hands reaching up to thread her soft dark curls. She cups his face, tugging him closer to her and he sweeps her off, setting her on the top of the couch’s back. Their mouths entwined in intricate dance, each trying to get closer to the other. Heat flares in Steve, heat that he has not felt for such a long time. His hand sliding down her curves, palming the small of her back. Then a loud throat clearing startles them apart.

In the doorway that Steve had forgotten to close are Jane, Thor, Stark and pretty much everyone from his team staring with wide smirks.

“I told you they were soul mates,” Jane hisses triumphantly to Thor. 


	4. Five minute story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rules: Use five minutes, and only five minutes, to write a drabble. No re-reading, no editing. Tag ten followers afterward.

“Steve!” Skye frowned at the man sitting at the table, hunching guiltily over the bottle and scarfs the bread and nutella down immediately. “Is that Nutella?” She pointed at the bottle.

“Uh…” With no other choice, Steve pushed the bottle that he had been hiding in his shadow. “Yes…?”

“Is that the bottle of Nutella I bought yesterday?”

He gulps audibly, knowing exactly what she was going to say. “Yes…”

“Is that bottle empty?”

He peers into it dramatically despite knowing it is empty because he just cleaned it out not a minute ago. “Yes….” he sighs. “Look Skye…”

“One inch, Steve! One inch! You can only put one inch thick on your bread. We had this conversation yesterday Steve!” She flailed her arms unhappily. “I bought a box two days ago! A box of twelve! And they’re gone!” She folded her arm, with a sulk. “And I haven’t even eaten a single piece.”

 


	5. Skye x Clint

“Baby, hold on,” Clint presses his hands on her gaping wound. Her wound is big that Clint knows with almost certainty that she isn’t going to make it. He feels like drifting into unconscious through their bond. “Skye, stay with me.” He digs into the wound to jolt her awake, Skye gasps, blood dribbles from her mouth.

 

“Shuss, don’t say anything. Stark’s going to be here and we’re going to get out. And then we’re going to have a long talk about running in alone.” He presses his comms with his bloodied fingers. “Stark. We need the med evac yesterday. Where is it?”

 

“Skye!” Clint tries to pull himself together.

 

She gurgles, struggling to say something. He feels the feeling of love and regret from her through their bond. “No. Don’t say it. You’ll be fine.”

 

He is lying but he doesn’t want to deal with it. She grips his hand, “I love you.” She struggles to say more but isn’t able to.

 

When the med evac comes, he is cradling her and is a mess. He doesn’t care, he’ll beg Wanda to bring her back or even Layla if that’s what it takes.

 

He smashes every bottle in the living room but doesn’t touch the work room. It still smells of her.

 

Her half-eaten sandwich is balanced precariously on a bunch of files, her sweater is flung over the heap of pillows that she had designed to look like a pillow fort, the nerf gun that she uses to shoot him from the vent is just beside the keyboard.


	6. A deal with the devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony makes a deal with the devil accidentally and spends the rest of his life praying it never comes true. - [tumblr](http://luna-orlha.tumblr.com/post/131738230385/untitled)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Less of a prompt but more of a test drive story. *Shrug*

Tony sits by the fence. He is alone but that is pretty normal for him. He really isn’t inclined to sit in the room with all the other adults talking about stuff that he doesn’t quite understand. He does, however, understand that he’s a failure. His father says that all the time when he is around which Tony is grateful that he isn’t. His father is too preoccupied with searching for Captain America, the boy that should have been his father’s son instead of him.

Lost in his middling thoughts, Tony doesn’t notice the man at the edge of the garden until he sits down beside him.

“Penny for your thoughts,” the man says as he takes his hat off.

His eyes are oddly coloured and if Tony didn’t know any better, he would have said that the man’s eyes are red, but red eyes don’t exist so they’re an odd shade of brown.

“My thoughts are worth far more than a penny,” Tony tells him, his mind already deciding that if any man was going to come out of the party that his father is hosting and talk to him, there can only be two conclusions. The man wasn’t interesting enough for his father to notice him and entice him to stay and the man is yet another brown-noser that thinks by getting into his own good graces that Tony will bring him up to his father and introduce him. Well the joke’s on him. His father would not even notice him unless he ran into the room stark naked and painted in red. Stark naked, he likes that word and plans to use it more frequently.

The man chuckles and leans back onto the fence. “That’s quite true. That is-” he pauses with a grin that for no apparent reason sends a frisson of fear down Tony’s spine. “If you’re a Stark.”

Tony doesn’t rise to the bait and revises his opinion of the man. The man is not some incompetent chook, he is a jackass. But before he could respond to the Jackass’ comment, the man continues, “What if I could make you as brilliant as your father?”

“What? Like a serum? Sorry, all serum and its relevant information was destroyed when Erskine died.”

“No serum. No changing schools or anything. No real effort required on your part.”

For a split second, Tony is ashamed to say he actually considered his words. If he was as brilliant as his father then maybe, just maybe, his father would stop looking for Captain America and come home to be with mummy and him. “No deal sounds that good,” Tony scoffs. “there’s got to be some kind of disclaimer.”

The man grins even wider. “Just one small one.” He holds out an index finger. “I’ll take your first official son.”

Tony wonders if the man is some kind of sick fuck, wanting people’s sons. What was he going to do with them? His four year old mind struggles to fill in the relevant blanks and he decides, the man doesn’t say he has to have a son. Apart from it sounding like some kind of shady deal, there really isn’t a downside to it if he never has a kid.  

“Do we have a deal?” the man extends his hand out.

Tony glances askance at the hand and as he takes it, he revises the first opinion he formed of that man. His eyes are not an odd shade of brown. It is red like blood and luminous. “Good, I’ll be back when your son is fifteen,” the man says and for the first time since he had began conversing with the man, Tony notices the strange undertones in the man’s voice.

“Are you the devil? Oh God. I made a deal with the devil?”

Tony bumbles but the man doesn’t answer his questions. He palms Tony’s eyes, closing them.

**Sleep.**


	7. Unwanted soulmate

Skye scrubbed the words on her skin viciously. There would be a scar later she knew. The words that had kept her going at times. She closed her eyes, hoping that the burn of the sting skin drive the memories away. How often she had in her earlier teenage years had she ran her fingers down her arm, tracing those words; someone in her future would find her very beautiful, someone that would love her unconditionally, someone that belonged to her. She had imagined it would have involved him cupping her face, whispering those words to her before kissing her.

 

No. She eyed the box cutter on her desk. She would never be free as long as his words were on her arm. Her fingers gripping tightly on the box cutter, her eyes mapping the skin required to cut it away.

 

“Are you going to let him win like that?” Coulson asked. There was determination in her eyes that Coulson was all too familiar with.

 

“I’ll never be free…” she choked the words out, the hand gripping the razor trembled. Bound to a monster. Was she a monster as well? Skye stared blankly at Coulson. “Am I a monster as well?”

 

He sighed. Gently wrapping his hand over her trembling hand, he replied firmly, “You are never a monster, only the one with enough good to balance him off.” Her grip loosen and he hastily pulled the razor out of her hands, tossing it to May who stood there silently.

 

“Never think you’re a monster.” Coulson wrapped his arms around the girl.


	8. Skye x Steve

Nick Fury was out. The roof was coming apart which wouldn’t be so bad if they weren’t falling with the helicarrier into the ocean.

 

Skye hoisted his arm over her shoulder, barely making way to the door. The gunshot wound in her arm is killing her quite literally and is dripping blood steadily. Frankly she thinks they’re doomed. She failed DC in protecting Nick.

 

She tastes the salt and blood as she struggles with Nick’s deadweight. Probably from her head wound or maybe from biting her lip. Skye can’t really tell. She plows on, dragging his body across the room, then suddenly she feels the weight relieved off her shoulders.

 

“I’ll carry the body. Just keep running.”

 

It’s Captain America! He pushes her in front of him, hoisting Nick over his shoulder in a fireman hold.

 

“You came back!” She half sobs, “Are you mad?”

 

He purses his lips, almost freezing at her words. “I’ve always been wanting to know the context of those words,” he says, sotto voce.

 

It didn’t register in her mind until he says that. Captain America said those words which is awkward because she realizes that they’ve worked together for two years before actually speaking their first words together.

 

“At least now I know that my soul mate isn’t a murderer or an assassin.” Skye chokes and sends vibrations up to break the falling debris.

 

He chuckles at her words, “Coffee when we get out of this?”

 

“Definitely.”


	9. Bucky & Skye - Living on a prayer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Again less of a prompt but more of something I ran with. - [tumblr](http://luna-orlha.tumblr.com/post/128074697370/living-on-a-prayer-1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things to note:  
> 1) it’s AU!  
> 2) Skye’s father isn’t Cal and she hasn’t met her parents  
> 3) let’s just say a lot of things that happened in Aos doesn’t happen here. happens differently

**_i._ **

He was accustomed to being alone. He doesn’t recall how long he had been sitting in the cell. If feeding times were scheduled and daily, he would have been here, awake for nineteen days. But he knew that they weren’t. Meals were haphazard and so were exercise timings. He isn’t surprised if they did it so to keep him off-balanced. It might have worked, but he frankly doesn’t give a damn about anything. All he remembers is the man on the bridge and the longer he sits here, the more he remembers. So he wait and waits until he can remember more.

 

Then he sees her.

 

They drag her into the cell next to his, chains her to the wall and leaves. She whimpers but they don’t speak. He is not a man of words. He once was, he remembers that, but he is no longer Bucky. He is something else. A weapon? A man? He isn’t quite sure, what he does know is that she is in pain and is barely conscious. There is something about her that he can’t quite put a finger on. A sense of warmth and thumping in his chest when he watches her and sees her grimace in pain.

 

He watches her and when they come to drag her away, something in him screams to act. The compulsion confuses him and he hesitates. She doesn’t turn to look at him, she doesn’t turn to look at the men and she doesn’t come back.

* * *

 

_**ii** _

 

Skye doesn’t remember how long she’s been there. She remembers going out for surveillance with Bobbi. She remembers lying on the hot parquet, sweating her butt off. The comms goes static and she fiddles with the laptop. The men in black attacked her and she takes down three but there is seven more and she falls off the building. She remembers Bobbi screaming her name, or someone screaming her name but can’t remember who and everything else after that is a blur.

 

There was once she remembered her name, she knows it starts with a S or a M and S. The pain dulls her thoughts. They ask things that she doesn’t know off. She doesn’t know where the 0-8-4 is or what it is. The number sounds familiar, like something she knows intimately with. She knows she should know and that scares her. Not knowing who she is or who she was is scarier than the injections and beatings they give her.

 

Pain is an endless thing. Her body hurts, her bones hurt, her teeth hurt. Just when she thinks she is numbed to the pain, they increase the pain with another round of injections with the strange amber liquid. Somewhere at the back of her mind, she thinks that the amber liquid looks like honey with its sluggish viscosity. She can’t recall what honey is except it’s sweet. 

 

She whimpers unconsciously as the men clasp her wrists roughly. Her wrists are sore from hanging from the ceiling. Her feet feel like they cannot support her as they push up into cylinder. It is cold, so very cold.

* * *

_**iii.** _

Coulson rages. It was a simple surveillance mission. He had sent Skye with her temporary SO because she needed field experience. It was a simple in and out and she was supposed to be safe with their one of their best field agents. The whole mission had been a dud. Both agents were missing and he feared that Bobbi wouldn’t be alive for much longer.

“Playback,” Coulson tells the young tech engineer.

“Sir, I’m s-sure w-we won’t get anything more from it, ” Fitz stammers. They must have listened to Skye’s and Bobbi’s last recording at least several hundred times. He is not surprised that he can recite it word for word. He plays it anyway. If listening to it another thousand times would help them find Skye and Bobbi, Fitz would do it.

> _‘Mockingbird you have hostiles coming on your 7 o'clock. Advise if you’d like me to neutralise them.’_
> 
> _‘Received. I will deal with them.’_

Static bursts in and dulls down. Fitz guesses that Skye has been trying to adjust the communications when the static occurred.

> _'Mockingbird come in.’ Skye repeats it several times and then swears._

The transmission ends with a long static. There is no need for guesswork. The security cameras from the opposite building shows her bering attacked before falling off the roof.

Coulson watches the feed. His bland tone and calm face belying the anger churning in his stomach. Natasha was still off-grid. But there was Clint. It was time to call him in.


	10. Bucky & Skye - Living on a prayer pt 2

_**iv.** _

He doesn’t know how long he waited, he only knows it felt like a really long time. If he had more poetry in him, he might have described it differently but the men robbed him of it. They robbed him of his freedom, of his own will. He knows this. He knows what he is doing is wrong now, but he needs to wait. Something in him tells him to wait. He pretends to be under their control, bidding for his time. 

 It is night when he moves. It is not night because he waited for it. It is night because the voice in his head tells him to move. He doesn’t know if the voice is trustworthy but he knows that one tells him to obey and one tells him to run. He thinks that the one that tells him to run is better than one that tells him to kill. Their necks snap easy in his hands. He should feel something with their deaths, he should feel something for the deaths but he doesn’t. They robbed him of it as well. He fills the oncoming guards with bullets, chucks it when it is empty then picks up another from the dead guards. He repeats the process until all of the guards are dead. He isn’t apologetic for their deaths, if anything, there’s a sense of relief like he can finally breathe.

His steps are inaudible as he steps into the labs despite his chunky shoes. This is the last place he wants to be in, but the voice urges him to find her. He has to find her. He searches the cells, he remembers them. The large portion of the cellmates are dead or dying. He frees them anyway. Perhaps the allure of freedom may rouse them from their deaths. He searches but he doesn’t find her. He doesn’t find her body. He breaks the tubes they used to store him but they are all empty.

She is gone and he doesn’t know why his chest hurts so much.

* * *

 

_**V.** _

The day starts with the siphoning of her blood. She likes to watch the crimson liquid slosh in its tiny jars. It is the best part of her day. There is no pain. Some days they stick large needles into her hip and it hurts so much that she screams. Some days, they cut her open and harvest her organs. She doesn’t know why they do that. Do they not have their own? It hurts. It always hurts and she always screams. Screaming is instinctive. Eventually she stops screaming. It isn’t because it has stopped hurting, it is because she has no more voice to scream. 

Her name is Subject 7.

It doesn’t sound right, it doesn’t sound right on their tongues, but it is the only name she has ever known. 

She prays for someone to save her when she is alone with her thoughts. She doesn’t know who she is praying to or for whom, she only knows that sometimes she remembers vaguely. She sees the man with the receding hairline in her dreams, the van, the cup of hot chocolate with tiny marshmallows. She prays to see them again. 

 

> _“What up Boss man?”_
> 
> _He sighs and gives her a bland look. She knows all his looks, the tiny micro expressions he makes when he expresses things._
> 
> _“What are you doing up at-” he checks his watch. “3am?”  
>  _
> 
> _“Couldn’t sleep.”  
>  _
> 
> _He grunts and pulls out 2 mugs. “Hot Chocolate?”_

The men in white coats come in to give her injections again. She doesn’t know what they are but it makes her body feels like it’s burning. 

“The Asset has gone out of control!” One of the men in black runs in. He motions at his minions and they begin rounding things up.

“Bring subject 7 to the Arctic. We’ll handle the rest.”

She is surprised that the men in white coats obey. They don’t question, they move quickly, replacing things into little boxes and then turn to her.

They tell her to sleep. She doesn’t want to, but her body obeys.

* * *

 

_**vi.** _

Coulson finds Bobbi two weeks later, strung up to the ceiling of an abandoned warehouse. Bleeding, unconscious and barely alive, she stays in the ICU for another four days before she’s awake enough to answer questions. Her answers do not divulge the whereabouts for Skye and Barton’s searching yields no trace of her. Time is running out for Skye.

He hopes that when he finds her, it isn’t a mutilated pile of flesh that is barely breathing, which is the only way he can describe Mockingbird’s retrieval. None of them want to consider that she might not even be alive.

It is another three long weeks before Stark notices the glaring absence of his daughter’s trolling on the web. He knows Skye is Stark’s daughter as she shared in confidence on the real reason why she was with them, but the fact that Skye no name is actually Skye Stark comes as a surprise to everyone including Hawkeye. Coulson is hardly perturbed by the fact that no one except him knew of their relationship. Tony Stark had showed a remarkable amount of discretion if Skye’s (horror) stories of her dad was anything to go by.

Stark in the startling unlike Stark fashion, sets to work immediately upon finding out the disappearance of Skye. He doesn’t bother to berate Coulson and is focused entirely of searching through various databases with the skill that is only second to Skye’s. Even with the tapping of JARVIS’s protocols and programs, it is almost as though every trace of her existence had been wiped away.

The foreboding feeling that had been coiled tightly in his stomach curdles as he extrapolates the the possibilities of her circumstances and the tiny hope he had been holding on to Skye’s recovery vanishes.


	11. Last poptart

“Hooooonnnnney!” She sulked, placing her chin on his shoulder. “You promised that that pop tart was going to be me." 

 He paused in mid motion, blinking blankly at the pop tart. "Isn’t there anymore in the cabinets?" 

 "You ate the last four boxes." 

 Logic told him that he should at least let her have one. She only asked got one. But it’s the last pop tart! He gritted his teeth and held it out for her. Just one bite. As soon as she took a bite, he ran off with the pop tart in his hand. 

"James Buchanan Barnes! Put that pop tart down now!" 

 Like hell he was, he moved to shove it in his mouth and she sent a wave of vibration at it, sending it flying into the air. He jumped, grabbing it tightly in his hand. She wasn’t going to give it to him. 

"That pop tart is mine!” She sent another wave of vibration at him and he dodged but dropped the pop tart , the cabinet behind him shattering. 

“Did you just seriously try to knock me out!?” he hollered from behind the couch. 

“You ate the last seven boxes, Bucky. You promised me one box and now you won’t even give me the last one!” She flipped the couch with her powers, accidentally ripping one of the pillows. Bucky was behind the couch trying to crawl to the pop tart when Lucky, Clint’s dog walked into the kitchen and ate it up. The two of them gasped. 

“The last pop tart! CLINT!”


	12. Last ice cream

“Steve-o. Is that the last bowl ice-cream in your hands.” Skye glares at him, hands folded across her chest.

“Uhm. Nope. Nope. There’s a whole tub in the fridge….” He trails off as she holds up the tub of ice-cream.

“Guess what? Whole tub is empty!” She grouches and hoists herself over the couch, right beside him. The couch is vibrating from her tension and she stares at him, lips pressed thinly together.

Steve gulps and glances at his now empty bowl. “Bad day honey?”

“More like I currently hate being a woman.” She grumps and slums into his arm. He slings his arm around her and she leans into him, halfway on his lap. She sniffs as he cards his fingers through her soft brown hair, rubbing circles his other hand on her back. 

“Well I like you very much as a woman.” He presses a kiss on her temple, then another on her nose. “Very very much.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re afraid i’m going to throw you out of the room.”

She is right. The last time he ate the last bit of ice cream while she was being in a ‘I hate being a woman’ phase, she used her powers to throw him out. Steve feels the couch vibrate even more. “Nope.” He says, perhaps a little too fast and hopes she doesn’t notice it.

Skye sniffs, rubbing her face into his shirt. “Well you’re gonna get two tubs next time. Especially if you plan on finishing one by yourself.”

“Yes ma’am.” 


	13. Daisy/Steve hospital AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three sentence prompt

“I told you to stay put,” Steve folded his arms at the seat beside the bed where his girlfriend lay with her broken foot slung up in the new white case. “It’s lucky you even got off with only a broken foot. What happens if the inhuman had hit you with real intentions of killing you, then what?”

Skye sulked, “Says the man who crashed the plane into the ice.”

“It was one time!”

“And ran into the ruins to stop the Hulk.”

“I had to since I was the closest!”

“And jumped at the live grenade.”

“Well it was a dud, so.”

“And jumped out of the plane without a parachute.” Steve opened and closed his mouth, trying to find an appropriate answer to her statement then pinched his nose bridge with a long sigh.

“You’re never going to let it go are you?”


	14. Three sentence prompt - Bucky/Steve babysitting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oops the prompt was Bucky/Skye babysitting but I misread it and wrote a Bucky and Steve one.

Steve arched his eyebrow when he came home that night, Bucky was lying on the ground with a baby sleeping on his chest and surrounded by mess. “Please tell me you didn’t steal someone’s baby,” was the first thing Steve blurted out as he dumped the keys on the table and squatted beside him.

“Uh.. no? Maria asked us to babysit when she went out with Sam, remember?” Bucky presses his lips together with a frown and adds on puzzled, “why on earth do you think I’d steal a baby?”


	15. 3 sentence prompt - Skye/Bucky wedding AU

Having grown up in the system and after the mess with Miles and Ward, Skye never once thought she would find  _anyone_  that she could love again, let alone a 90 year old super soldier that had been the one she idolized as a kid. 

“You may now kiss the bride.”

Her fingers trembled when Bucky slowly lifted the veil and Skye blinked away the hot tears before they would escape her eyes; his lips capturing hers in a soft chaste manner, thumb caressing her cheek to wipe her tears away. 

As they pulled apart, he leaned his forehead against her, quietly murmuring, “I love you.”


	16. 3 sentence prompt - StuckyQuake labor au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so not 3 sentences..

“Calm down Skye!” Steve said to her, he gasped as her fingers dug into his forearm again, had there be any time he suspected Skye in being a super soldier, now would be a marvellous example of super soldier strength.

“I’ll show you calm!” She hissed and panted, “Screw you two and your super soldier sized babies!”  Skye screamed as the another wave of contractions came and she squeezed Steve’s arm.

“One more push!” the doctor said. “This is the last one!”

Her face was pale, her body trembled as she lay there, trying to muster more energy. “You can do it sweetheart,” Bucky wiped her sweaty face with a towel, his right arm carrying their other newborn child.  

Taking a shuddering breath, Skye dug in, screaming then flopping back onto the bed exhausted when the sound of their second child crying filled the room.

Steve brought their daughter to her embrace and Bucky placed their son on her right side, hand gently helping her to cradle it. “They’re beautiful,” she whispered and she was asleep.


	17. 5 sentence prompt - Darcy/Clint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "My dad is the landlord and pets aren't allowed in the building and yet something keeps barking in here, so you have two choices."

Darcy folded her arms and stared evenly at Clint. Clint rolled his shoulders and spread his arms in a helpless way, “Move out or get rid of the dog?”

He wasn’t going to give up Lucky, so there was really only once choice left and he didn’t like it.  It was the only apartment around here that wasn’t dingy, had heat on cold days, air conditioning in summer and fit his budget, maybe Stark might allow him some dignity when he came crawling back.

Darcy shook her head and smirked before holding out a small bag of doggie treats, “You got to go out on a date with me and let me pet him.”


	18. Twilight x MCU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some kind of ungodly twilight/captain america: civil war crossover, and how terrifying it would be to live in a world where that exists.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr prompt](): Would Bucky be the shiny one? Imagine if and when the Avengers meet Edward. They’d be like…

“Who are you?” Steve asks the man that sparkles every time the branches sways in the wind, shifting the sunlight filtering through its gaps. He’s seen real shit. Shit like man with red skulls, kids that run at super speed. He’s seen aliens and ‘ _gods’_ but he’s not sure if anything is comparable to a sparkly man. Steve wonders if he has diamond skin or metal skin like Piotr or if he just... sparkles... in the sun, because if it’s the latter, man, the man’s gonna have real issues. 

“I’m Edward and you’re on my territory.” 

“I think the question you’re looking for Capsicle is, w _hat_ are you cause you’re kinda shiny.. like a disco ball. May I call you disco ball, okay I’m going to call you disco ball from now on and what the hell? How is this _your_  territory? This is Forks, Washington, and I’m pretty sure the last time I checked, which is exactly one minute ago, Forks still belongs to the government,” Stark says.

Edward blinks at the Stark before glancing at Steve in disbelief. “Uh...”

“You don’t talk very much do you, disco ball? Are you like King of silence like that ninja woman or like spy barbie quiet, wait, they’re both females so technically you can’t be _like_  them but-”

“Stark.” Steve pinches his nose bridge. “Please stop talking and let the sparkly man talk.”

Both Stark and Edward huffs but Stark wisely keeps quiet for the few moment until Edward replies, “I’m a vampire.”

Where Stark makes a little shrill scream of denial. “VAMPIRES ARE NOT SPARKLY.”

\---

Much, much, _much_ later.

Steve finds Bucky who vehemently refuses to step out out of the bunker and into the sunlight.

“Bucky- We can go home now. It’s safe at the Avengers’ Tower.” 

Bucky shakes his head. “No Steve. I can meet you there. I’m not leaving with you.”

Steve groans in frustration. “I don’t get it, what are you hiding from me?”

A sudden blast and frantic grabbing later, Stark emerges with Bucky in over his shoulder and out in the bright sunshine and he _sparkles._

 _“_ Good God. You’re one of them.” Stark says and falls silent from his excessive laughter.

“See! That’s why I said I’ll meet you there!”

“Hydra made you into a... a... sparkly vampire assassin?”


	19. Clint x Skye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Xmas prompts](http://luna-orlha.tumblr.com/post/135930232445/clintskye-for-xmas-prompts)

Clint knows that lurching feeling all too well and before he can react, he’s off the icy roof and down in a poof of snow with presents raining down around him. 

Skye is out of the door the moment he lands in the mount of snow and when he lies there groaning, she inclines her head at him with her hands at her hips and an arched eyebrow that says ‘ _I told you so’._ He groans even more. “Skyyyyyyeeee……. I broke my leg.”

Her mouth literally frowns and her jaw twitches at his words. “I told you that they’d have been fine with you coming through the door.” Skye rolls her eyes and turns back to the orphans. “Sorry guys, looks like Santa is clumsy today. Rudolph was sick and Santa had to go without his reindeer. Sarah, pick up the presents and bring them to the tree. I’m going to help Santa.”

Clint groans again as she crouches by him. “I’m dying…”

Skye scoffs though her eyes are soft. “Don’t be a baby,” she says and pulls her phone out. “Helen? Yea. He broke his leg again.” 


	20. Fitz x Skye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt](http://luna-orlha.tumblr.com/post/135907601570/fitz-x-skye): “Write a story where character A accidentally confesses liking character B.”

**Title:** Time after Time  
 **Fandom:** mcu ; AoS  
 **Genre:** Romance, Fluff  
 **Ship:** Skye/Fitz  
 **Rating:** T  
 **Additional Tags:** Falling in love

**“Write a story where character A accidentally confesses liking character B.”**

* * *

 

He’s not a fighter. There was never once Leo Fitz considered himself to be a fighter; not in physically, not in life and never in romance. For as long as he could remember for the last decade, Leo had admitted that he was probably in love with Jemma. Jemma was one of the few who could keep up with him despite in a different field, she finished his sentences, knew what he was thinking before he even realized it. 

Then when at the bottom of the sea, he realized that even if he was not a fighter, he had to do so to protect Jemma. And he did so, knowing fully that the chance of his survival was probably 5%. Not very good, but a decision he would make again if he was asked. 

Even when he realized that Jemma had never shared the same feelings, he never regretted it. So, he might have in a certain extent, but he didn’t because had it not for that accident, that very decision, it would not have led him to realizing to the things he realized now. 

\---

He stirred from sleep, blearily blinking his eyes as he came to the awareness of a weight on his side and warmth beneath his arms. His shoulder ached but it was a good ache with Skye sleeping on his shoulder, his arms wrapped around her shoulders and waist. Her natural scent blanketed him like a familiar place - like the kitchen in his grandma’s house. His eyes traced her face, his arms still in fear that he would rouse her, stopping at her lips. They were slightly parted in sleep and Leo watched them with a growing hunger, a coil of longing at the bottom of his stomach.

* * *

 

Blinded by the close friendship of Jemma and the comfort of his lab, Leo had failed to realize that he never been in love with Jemma but Skye. She was there at very step of the way, silently sitting on the lab table, talking about things that didn’t really mean anything. It was then Leo remembers the first time he saw Skye. 

The first time he saw her, he was struck dumb by her sheer beauty. The curve of her lips, the dark eyes that seemed to wink in amusement; his eyes would follow her across the room, tracking her motions as she sat perched on the lab table. 

She pursed her lips, frowning and shifting to look up at him. 

“Fitz?” she drawled sleepily. 

“I-It’s t-two am. Go- go b-back to sl-sleep.” He only said. 

Skye yawned, snuffling into the crook of his neck where her warm breath tickled his skin. “Kay- Lovemm you-” she mumbled. There was a moment of pause before she shot up, stumbling off the couch where they had fallen asleep on, almost slamming her head into the coffee table. “Shit. I didn’t mean to-” She looked about wildly. “I mean we- I just-” 

“I-It’s okay.”

“I didn’t mean to-”

He pulled her down, slamming his lips against her. Her eyes widen almost comically before sinking close, melting into the kiss that Leo hadn’t expected to experience. It felt at that moment like he had been living in the darkness all his life and it was the first time he stepped out into the light. Her soft lips mouthing against his chapped ones. She tasted like popcorn and caramel, like the best thing he ever tasted and he explored her mouth a fervour, nipping at her lips. His hand caressed her face, his thumb stroking her cheek, her hands in his hair, falling slowly back onto the couch.

Eventually they broke apart, a soft moan escaping her kiss-swollen lips, her hands trailing down the sides of his face to cup his chin.

“I’m not dreaming this am I?” she whispered.

He chuckled wryly, not bothering to move his face away from her, pressing his forehead against her, “Do-do- do you always dr-dream of me?”

He felt her lips curl against his as she replied, “Only the best ones.”


	21. Claire fishes Bucky from the dumpster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr prompt](http://luna-orlha.tumblr.com/post/135379120345/lark-cale-amusewithaview-ozhawkauthor): Claire's Nick Fury's niece and her sister is Jessica Pearson from suits.

It’s another day that she fishes a yet another bleeding man out of the back alley, he’s far too heavy and not quite conscious, but Claire’s used to bossing superheroes around and he compiles with a huff. He sinks into her couch, letting her take his shirt off so she may dress his wounds. The man reminds her strongly of Matt despite being almost twice the size of him and as she pulls the shirt off, she freezes. She’s a nurse who does regular rounds at the ER, she’s dressed Matt’s wounds and hell, she’s dressed that woman detective with weird powers but nothing quite prepares her for a whole motherfucking metal arm.

This is definitely up Uncle Nick’s alley.

Swearing, she pulls her phone out and dials the speed dial. It rings and rings and then it rings out. She dials Phil but it too rings out. Something weird was going on and it better damn well not be another alien invasion or another big giant robot in the middle of the fucking desert because Claire isn’t going to sit through another family meal with Nicky telling Jessica “ _Jessy there are so many fucking things out there and you’re worrying about that fucking lawyer in your firm that’s not a lawyer but is working as a fucking lawyer?”_

“Well big guy,” she squats in front of him, cleaning his wounds. “Looks like the Calvary isn’t going to be here any time soon.” Wrapping the wounds up after stitching them, she hands him one of matt’s shirts that doesn’t fit quite well. It’s almost obscenely tight and she can see the muscle though Matt’s well-worn shirt. “Sorry. That’s the largest I got.” Claire tells the man who only nods and lies out on the couch.

“I am James Buchanan Bucky Barnes of the 107th. Sergeant. 32557.” He mumbles and he closes his eyes. Claire hears him reiterating it as she slips into her own room and googles the name. She recognizes the name, anyone who studied history in school or watched TV while growing recognizes it but was he really him? 

Claire stares at the googled image of James Barnes and if she imagined that man outside with short hair and clean shaven, he was no doubt the same guy. Could he be? She tries dialling for Uncle Nick then Phil, then Maria and hell, she even dials Nat and none of them picks up. Something big was going down. For the sake of her blood pressure, Claire sticks her head out and stares at the sky. 

Okay. No big hole in the sky or weird flying aliens. Maybe not alien invasion. 

Then she dials the other number on her speed-dial. 

“Yes Claire?” The female over the line purrs insouciantly. “Please tell me you’re not calling on Uncle Nick’s behalf again. I’ve had it with his shenanigans. Pearson Spector will _not_  be helping him with any more of his _dubious lawsuits.”_

“Jess… I have a 98 year-old man sitting in my living room!” she whispers frantically. It sounds weirder out loud than in her head. But it’s definitely right up there as one of the weirder things alongside the flying alien gods.

“Please tell me you didn’t take in _another_ man. You have such a proclivity in taking strange men into your home and honestly the last _man_  you took in was that strange lawyer superhero and after all that Fisk business-”

“JESSICA!” Claire pulls a deep breath as she runs a hand through her hair. “I. Have. James. Buchanan. Barnes. In. My. Living. Room.”

A long silence lapses before her elder sister finally replies, “What the fuck? How?”


	22. Steve Rogers - Depression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Triggers(s):** Suicide, depression, cutting

**Genre:** Angst  
 **Ship:** \--  
 **Triggers(s):** Suicide, depression, cutting  
 **Rating:** T 

The cars zoomed past his spot in the cafe, the cacophony of conversations flooded his ears, enveloping in the world today, the world that he hadn’t wanted. Tall buildings towered his every view, spiralling into the sky above. And though Steve was not actively aware of it, his every thought reminded him of what Bucky would have said about the future. He would have mourned from the lack of flying cars, the lack hoverboards and flying trains, the precise view Bucky had always painted the future to be.

He struggling to pull air into his burning lungs. A roaring sound filled his ears and swamped all his other senses except the sentence that looped over and over in his head - he should be dead. He hadn’t wanted to be alive not when he had lost everything - everything. Gabe, Dum dum, Morita, Bucky. Peggy. Steve clutched his head as the room spun around him. Why had they woken him? It was so selfish and horrible.

He clenched his fist, forcing himself to breathe slowly. He had to pull his fucking self together. He was Captain America for fuck’s sake. Taking a slow breath, Steve counted to five before slowly releasing it. Almost a fucking scene.

He shook his head, draining the dregs of the shitty tea and stood up. If he had energy to hyperventilate, or almost hyperventilate, he would better off be burning it off in some kind of gym.

Slinging his bag across his shoulder, he wandered the streets. There wasn’t anywhere he wanted to go. Steve wasn’t sure if he wanted to see buildings built over the places where he remembered in his childhood. The thought of even losing those places curdled at the bottom of his stomach.  In the end, despite actively not wanting to, his feet had brought him back to the same street he had grown up on.

The buildings reached into the skies, clean and modern. The candy shop that Bucky and him had stared enviously into was gone, replaced by a Mcdonalds that tasted nowhere as good as it used to. The home-run restaurant was replaced by a 7-eleven and right beside it where the laundry used to be was still a laundry but it was vastly different. It wasn’t even by the same family. It was filled with loud square machines and stacks of coins to change. Cold and impersonal unlike the laundry that he remembered it to be.

Girding his jaws, Steve stalked the rest of the way back home. Except it wasn’t even home. It was just a place he slept in at night. He hadn’t been home since the war. Bucky and then later Peggy were his home.Were.

Steve sobbed in the privacy of his own bathroom, palming his eyes. The helpless fury that he felt was so overwhelming that it brought frustrated tears to his eyes. Why had they awoken him? Why had they pulled him from the ice? Why had they saved him where he had nothing left. Nothing. Not even Howard. Why must he live when everything he sacrificed for was gone?

Anger filled him followed by the hollowness in him that seemed to tear with each breath he took, reminding him that he was all alone. Steve stared into the mirror, hating the face that stared back at him - the face of a dead man. He should be dead. Dead, dead, dead, dead.

He slammed his fist into the mirror, shattering it. Beads of red blood dribbled off his knuckles for a moment before sealing to perfect pink skin. A mirthless laugh escaped his throat as he sank against the white tiled floor. He couldn’t even kill himself if he wanted to. The serum assured that.

And now, even the choice to die wasn’t allowed.

\----

Steve had put his mask on as he always did. He’s Captain America and they only wanted Captain America. They had no need for Steve Rogers that was broken.  He was no longer Steve Rogers.

He was Captain America who laughed too much, was effervescently polite, always ready to stand up for the weak and always ready to lay his life down for a cause.

Even if all that is not Steve Rogers. Steve Rogers just wanted to not wake up. He wanted to disappear from the world, lay down in a corner and die. He jumped off planes without parachutes, recklessly taking bullets in the stomach, storming strongholds by himself, praying fervently that he would just die; that his serum would stop making him whole again.

There was a fine line of acting like an idiot in the face of technology and actually being one. Steve was the former. He knew Shield monitored him even in the apartment with the exception of the bathroom. So when the clawing hatred threatened to burst out of his chest, Steve used his razor and cut himself in the bathroom, feeling the overwhelming surge of relief as he did. The serum would make him whole again anyway.

No one noticed how much he wanted to just die. No one cared enough. They saw Captain America and his all american goodness.


	23. Steve x Darcy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr prompt:](http://luna-orlha.tumblr.com/post/135989093920/numbered-tumblr-prompt) 43- “Not all heroes wear capes.” 68- Prank war.

Darcy was in the vent hiding from Clint and Tony which wasn’t actually the best idea. Clint was like the master of all… vents and Tony was the king of the tower. She wasn’t under any delusion that she would not be found… no Darcy knew better than to underestimate her opponents. But if she could reach Thor in time, maybe Thor could protect her from their wrath. Just _maybe_. She nudged forward a bit, her boobs catching on the lever of the vent, her body was falling forward before she could catch herself. Darcy braced herself for the inevitable pain of falling onto the ground or onto some office tables but neither came. Instead she fell into warm, muscled arms.

“Darcy?” Steve said though it was more of a question than a statement. She peered through her fingers to catch Steve looking up at the vents and back down at her. “What are you doing in the vents? Tony was just looking for you-”

 Slapping her hands across his mouth, Darcy whispered, “Shusss. The Elephant master is looking for me. You’re not going to tell him that I’m here,” She flickered her eyes across the empty office, her voice dropping an octave as she continued, “are you?”

 He frowned, eyebrows lifting perplexed. “Elephant master?”

 Her hands slid off his face, sliding down his well-defined biceps. “Say I always wanted to ask. You’re a superhero, so where’s your cape?”

 “You didn’t-” Steve started and stopped at the sight of Clint in the doorway.

 “Steve. Hand her over.”

 Clint was… Clint was… Steve tried to form a description of what Clint was. but the only thing that stuck was Darcy’s description of ‘Elephant master.’ He opened and closed his mouth several times before finally asking Clint, “Did you go to sleep on an elephant print?”

 There was the picture of an elephant head repeated all over Clint. _All over Clint._

 Clint swore and rubbed at the print on his left cheek. “Darcy… you’re going to regret this!”

 “You started the prank war!” She stuck her tongue out at him from behind Steve.

 “Darccy!” Tony burst through the door. “WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY SUIT!?”

 Steve looked down at her questionly. “I painted pink elephant prints on them,” she said. Her lips curling into a smug smile. “That’s for replacing all my shirts into those tight, pink tank tops!”

 “You-”

 Steve pulled himself up, folding his arms with a stern look at the two men when they made a movement towards Darcy, then he whispered from the corner of his lips. “Run! I’ll hold them!”

She jerked his head down and pressed her lips to his soft lips. “My hero, even without the cape,” she said, merriment dancing across her blue eyes. 

And then she out of the other door, Steve standing there touching his lips with a dumbfounded look.


	24. Clint Barton - Pietro's Funeral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr request](http://luna-orlha.tumblr.com/post/136401802035/vulpeculanight-imaginemarveluniverse) \- Standing at Pietro's funeral and hearing a whisper in the wind "You didn't see that coming?"

The leaves in the trees above rustled quietly in an unfelt wind, like whispers of a language Clint wasn’t familiar with. There was a mist rising from the damp grounds and the sky was oddly overcast for a late summer’s morning.

Clint thought it was just the wind at first. He had been to enough funerals to know even the strangest winds and occurrences felt like some foreshadowing - to funerals where they had been someone close to him and even to ones where he barely knew them yet Pietro’s simplistic funeral struck a chord in him. The helpless fury that he felt was so overwhelming that it brought frustrated tears to his eyes - but he did not let them fall. Clint clenched his jaw, squared his shoulders, willing himself to be a supporting figure to the crying female on his right.

_Was this another civilian or a soldier that he fought side-by-side?_

Clint remembered the mischief in the boy’s face, the boy that seemed barely out of his teens. He was a victim of circumstances then joined them in their fight only to become one of the numerous casualties sustained.

Nausea made his gut twist and roll but he refused to show it. He sat there beside Wanda, his eyes half closed, his arm slung over Wanda as she wept into his coat.

_Could he fault the boy for trying to save his life?_

He felt bereft of the decision to save the kid’s life. He should be the one in that box, the one that-- Swallowing the bile and the very realisation that Clint had rather deprived his own children their father than to let another take his place. It was like being stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Pietro was barely seventeen for fuck’s sake. No one should die so young.

Beside him, Wanda had stilled, staring up into the trees with her tear-streaked face. “They’re whispering,” she murmured, placing a trembling hand onto her lips as a fresh wave of tears spilt from her eyes. “They’re whispering...”

The question of whether she was beginning to lose her mind had barely been formed in Clint’s mind when the cold from the mist enveloped him. His body frozen in a rictus of shock and disbelief, staring wide-eyed at the leaves.

_‘You didn’t see that coming?’_

There was a seemingly quiet chuckle in the wind and dissipated. “You heard him too?” Wanda asked.

Clint struggled to put words in his mouth to reply her but all he was capable of was opening and closing his mouth.

She smiled a bittersweet smile and thrust her chin out, her fingers were still cold in Clint’s hands but where she looked like she was going to break into pieces moments ago, Wanda was now poised. “The Avengers’ offer. I think I’ll take it.” She turned, catching Steve’s eyes, her voice soft, belying the nervousness she hid in her shaking body. “I’ll become an Avenger, if it still stands.”

 


	25. Bucky/Skye - EDM Fan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt](http://luna-orlha.tumblr.com/post/140138569225/imagine-skye-is-an-edm-fan-and-bucky-has) \- Imagine Skye is an EDM fan and Bucky has absolutely no earthly idea what the hell these screechy boopy boppy sounds are, what happened to instruments?

Bucky was used to waking in the middle of the night from nightmares but this time it was nightmares he woke up to. Strictly speaking it could have been a nightmare.. a nightmare to his ears, that is.  From the room next to him was this noise of… screechy boopy boppy … sound… that was giving him a headache. Was it some form of new Hydra torture? Bucky scrubbed his face with his palm and pulled the SIG-Sauer from under his pillow. If it was Hydra torture, then he was going to put whoever running it or whatever that was broadcasting that torture sound out of misery.

He snapped the door open with a well aimed kick, levelling his gun to the… _torturer?_  

“Holy fuck! Bucky! What the fuck did you just do to my door!?” The brunette who had been dancing in the middle of the room motioned at the door.

He rubbed his face, then stared at disbelief at Skye. “Skye?”

“Yes, Skye. I know you have issues.. but dude! My door!”

She pushed him aside, the beer in her hand sloshing over him. Bucky grabbed her, steadying her as he holstered the gun to behind his back. “Are you drunk?” he asked then frowned. “And what is that horrible noise. I thought it was Hydra with some new form of torture…”

“I don’t get drunk anymore,” her lips pursed at his words. Not since Puerto Rico. The unsaid implication was understood without her explicit words. “And Hydra? Here? In the tower?” She arched an amused eyebrow to him.  Shaking her head, she pulled him into the middle of the room. “It’s the live feed from the EDM festival… electronic dance music from Miami.”

He tried to seriously enjoy it before giving up not more than two heartbeats later. “What happened to the instruments? It’s all screechy and horrifying.”

 “Oh God. You’re such an old man. Even Steve enjoys it.”

“Are you saying I’m an old man?”

“Well you are,” a smile played on her lips as he pulled her close, hands loosely on her hips. “Thirty six or hundred and one, depending on who you ask.”

He held his head so close to her that his lips practically ghosted hers. “Pretty sure I’m only twenty-nine.”

“A twenty-nine that doesn’t appreciate edm.”

“I could learn to appreciate it.”

“Really?”

He could feel her heart beating in time with the loud beats of the music. Drowning in the overwhelming beepy boppy music, Bucky could almost understand the appeal of it. Like adrenaline pumping through his veins. 

“Yea,” he murmured before capturing her lips with his.

 


	26. Darcy & Bucky - Roller Derby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt](http://luna-orlha.tumblr.com/post/139884596695/imagine-bucky-finding-out-about-roller-derby-and) \- Imagine Bucky finding out about roller derby and looking at Darcy and just... 'You have to'

Darcy finds Bucky sitting in the communal room watching not just any TV but roller derby at three in the morning. He’s so into it that he doesn’t even notice Darcy until she swings herself across the couch and beside him.

That might not have been Darcy’s best idea, startling a recently rehabilitated assassin was probably somewhere on her ‘ _Don’t do it!!’_ list, not that Darcy ever bothered with that list. Also she’s more or less done everything one that list, except for climbing a particular assassin like a tree.

She’s sweating her pants off when the knife goes at her throat. True to her reckless bravery, Darcy swallows, laughs loudly at one of the Gotham Girls knocking their opponents onto their asses and for all visual purposes, ignores the cold metal at her throat.

“I didn’t know you liked roller derby,” she brightly says to him when he sheaths the knife.

“Is that what it’s called?” he frowns and resumes his position, elbows digging into his thighs as he stares intently at the TV.

“Well yea… Gotham Girls are one of the best, if not the best. They’re also super cool,” she leans into the couch with a blissful sigh.

Bucky doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t even bother turning his eyes from the TV. It’s fodder that Darcy could not resist taking up, “You look like you have a crush on them.”

She sees Bucky’s adam apple bob as he tries to hide from her astute observation and in the dim TV light, Darcy can see his ears have turned pink.

He turns at her with a panicked look. “You just have to-”

She pats his arm with a knowing smile. “It’s okay.”

And if there’s a pair of tickets to watch the roller derby tournament live as well a backstage, no one would know otherwise.


	27. Bucky steals food from Skye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt](http://luna-orlha.tumblr.com/post/140218007780/prompt-who-took-my-food-skye-asked-staring) \- "Who took my food?" Skye asked, staring into the empty fridge. It took only a few moments for her brain to work it through. "Bucky!" Bruce caught her a few minutes later and calmed her down... Actually, fuck calm. Skye grabbed a baseball bat. Nobody touched her food.

It had been a god awful long day. On top of trying to convince the two newly minted inhumans to join Shield, she had been out on the street fighting with some new gang of inhumans which wouldn’t have been half as bad had one of them not have had the power to neutralise powers. It had taken her thrice the time and effort to subdue and bring them in before she was finally allowed herself to leave it to Lincoln and Alisha to deal with them. She just wanted her leftover pizza that she had tagged in pink paper all over to state that it belonged to her and perhaps some of that whiskey that Tony kept under the counter.

She swung open the fridge, expecting a nice cold slab of pepperoni pizza only to find the fridge empty. Nada. Void of everything except air and that lightbulb. Skye stared at it for several moments, blinked then closed the fridge’s door before reopening it as though expecting food to miraculously appear. Nope. Still empty.

“Who took my food?” She asked, lifting her head to the silent kitchen.

If there was a rule in the Avenger Tower’s kitchen, that was to never, never, _never_  steal people’s food. They glanced each other, wondering who the culprit was, Barton already edging away and towards a nearby vent for quick escaping purposes in case of some kind of Hulk equivalent of a Quake out.

“I’m going to ask again, who took my food?” Skye was too damn tired for this shit and under normal circumstances _might_  have been a less aggressive in her interrogation, facing off the Black Widow’s wilting stare before staring at all the other Avengers in close scrutiny. 

It took her only a few more moments for her brain to work it through. Natasha didn’t like pizza, Clint knew better after she had dyed his bed in hot pink, Tony didn’t like leftovers, Bruce didn’t like junk food, Steve would have followed the unsaid law… but Bucky.

“BUCKY!” She made a lunge for him only for Bruce to catch her in his arms.

“Calm down Skye. It’s just pizza. Look, there’s poptarts. You like poptarts too right?” Bruce took one out of the box, silencing Thor’s whimper with a sharp look as Thor watched Bruce open the silver foil. “It’s frosted Cherry too. Your favourite!”

Skye stared at the poptarts mournfully, she was really hungry. Did it matter _that_ much on what she ate? Wait. She was looking forward to _cold_  pizza. Hell! She saved it specifically so she could have it cold. Tugging her shirt down, Skye took a step back, hand reaching for the nearby baseball bat that Steve had left behind.

Fuck calm. No one steals food from her. Especially not cold pizza.

She ducked under Bruce’s arms, jumped over Thor ( he was seated, but it was still a feat she had never know possible) jumped over the counter top, raising her bat with a loud roar,  “It was mine, Bucky! How could you!?” 

“Oh fucking hell, do I need to call the construction workers _again_ ,” Tony said over the sound of the loud thudding and bursts of things exploding. “You know what. I’m just going to start up a construction division for Avengers. Oh what a brilliant idea!”

 


	28. Steve/Skye - Unexpected pregnancy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt](http://luna-orlha.tumblr.com/post/140272901605/imagine-steve-finds-a-pregnancy-test-in-the) \- Imagine Steve finds a pregnancy test in the bathroom

Steve was about to throw the empty aftershave can into the bin when he spied something oddly white and long inside. He paused, fishing it out. 

A pregnancy test? Why was there a pregnancy in the bathroom? 

“Doll?” He peered out of the bathroom, walking down the hallway still dressed in nothing but his boxers and a white singlet, holding the plastic thing, before coming to a stop at the couch where Skye lay there napping. He placed the can down on the end table and sat beside, brushing strands of her hair from her face. “Sweetheart?”

She groused quietly and opened an eye. “I said five minutes, it’s not five yet.”

“It was five minutes, twenty minutes ago,” he smiled. Even in her half woken sleep, even without all the make up she ritualistically put on, she was so beautiful. Never in his life had he never considered that the lady of his life would be a knockout, insanely intelligent, bold and fiery.

“Well five minutes from now then,” she mumbled, turning her head towards the couch.

He thumbed her cheek. “Don’t sleep now. I found this in the bathroom’s bin.”

“And you took it out?” she mumbled. Then suddenly, she sat down, eyes searching his figure. “You took it out?” she repeated, this time wide awake. 

Steve nodded, keeping a firm grip on it. “It says you’re pregnant.” He could practically feel tension wafting off her. “Are you?”

Her hands clenched tightly onto the edge of his shirt as  she stared fiercely at it. “Doll?” Chucking the plastic onto the coffee table, he gently tipped her head up, forcing her to look at him. “Skye? What’s wrong?” he brushed the tears away and pulled her into his embrace.

“I’m sorry! I- I didn’t know how to tell you,” she hiccuped into the crook of his neck and he rocked her back and forth.

“I don’t know why you didn’t just tell me, but it’s okay.”

“I- I didn’t want you to marry me because I was pregnant.”

“See that’s where you’re wrong,” he chuckled, lifting her into his arms and carried her into their room. Setting her on the bed, he motioned her to stay there as he went rummaging through his sock drawer. 

“I actually had Tony book us a fancy restaurant and all,” he said, turning back to her. His blue eyes not wavering as he knelt down on a knee. “I also planned to be wearing something more than a singlet and boxers,” he grinned. “But now is as good as a time. Skye, Daisy Johnson. When I first met you, you were this feisty dame that I didn’t know what to think of. You were brilliant, brave and the fact you could hold your on against Tony Stark made me fall for you. Of course, I didn’t realise it until that time where you had single-handedly pursued Bucky despite him a famous ex-assassin and brought him back to the Tower. It was only then, I realised I was a goner. I didn’t know what I didn’t have until I found you and now, I can’t imagine how I spent my days without you previously. I want your face to be the first thing I wake up to and the last thing I fall asleep to. I want to hold your hand when you’re sick, kiss you when you’re angry.”

Taking her small hand in his, Steve kissed it, eyes dancing with merriment as he opened the velvet box to unveil a plain silver ring with two blue crystals embedded in it. “Seeing how we’re always in the field, I got Tony to cast us vibranium rings with blue crystals that Thor gifted me. I’m hoping you feel the same as I do. It’d be my greatest honour if you allowed me to spend the rest of our life together. Will you marry me?”

She palmed the tears away, holding her hand out. Steve slipped the ring onto his finger and pressed up against her for a slow kiss. 

“I love you, Skye,” he said. “And I can think nothing more fantastic than to start a family with you.”

“I love you too.”


	29. Steve finds out about Trump

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt](http://luna-orlha.tumblr.com/post/139901795275/imagine-steve-finding-out-about-trump-running-for) \- Imagine Steve finding out about Trump running for presidency.

Steve is watching the news when news on the summary of presidential candidates are announced with Donald Trump as one of them. He turns Natasha baffled, “Why on earth would anyone vote for him?”

She shrugs. “Stupid people do stupid things.”

And when the news talks about Trump building a wall along Mexico, his fingers twitches “Good God. Has the population been dumbed down after the war?”

By then Bucky had enough of Trump and leans over to Steve, his moral compass, and whispers loudly, “Can I kill him?”

Steve snaps his head at Bucky in horror. “Remember we talked about killing innocent people?”

“Yes but-” Bucky gesticulates at Trump on the television.

Steve can see the appeal in that but the man, apart from sprouting nonsense, had done no evil. “No Bucky we can’t-”

Bucky slouches sulkily and Steve can sense another arguement brewing, but instead Natasha leans over and says to Bucky. “Maybe if he actually wins the election. We could make it look like an accident.”

Bucky is considerably happier with her reply and keeps his peace. Meanwhile the amount of ludicrous ridicularity continues sprouting from Trump’s mouth that Steve is amazed on how stupidly crazy a man can be.

It is to no one’s surprise (except Steve who is still hoping that Trump is just some poor misguided man) when Nick Fury storms through the Avenger’s communal door, his black coat billowing behind and saying loudly, “we have a situation. It has come to our attention that motherf***** Trump is Hydra.”

Steve can hear Clint yell loudly from his spot in the vents, “I KNEW IT!” while Tony mutters into his coffee about privatising America’s government.

Bucky leans over the counter and asks him, “Can we _now_ kill him?”

Natasha throws him a look. “I’ll do it. You _men_ will just make a mess of things.”

Before Bucky can snarl a response to Natasha’s barbed comment, Steve holds his hand up. “I got this guys.” He turns to Nick and asks, “I still can apply to run for president right?”

—

When one of his republican rivals try to counter with age, Steve says to him, “Son, don’t even go there. I’m 95 remember?”

When someone tries to counter how he’s living in the lap of luxury and can’t understand the everyday person, he counters with, “When I was a _young man_ , we used to boil everything for food because there was no money.”

Of course, Steve’s no politican. So when he wins by an overwhelming landslide despite his very late start to his campaign, he enlists Bernie’s and HiIlary’s help and no one would be wiser.


	30. Darcy's spiked coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt](http://luna-orlha.tumblr.com/post/140218932100/prompt-someone-spiked-her-coffee-with-red-bull) \- Someone spiked her coffee with Red Bull and Monster and God-knows what else. Also, she can taste hot fluorescent pink.

Coffee is a religion in the Tower. Far too many people worshipped the land it was grown on in the Tower. Far too many people depended on it for their whole day’s food menu. 

Falling asleep in the labs wasn’t one of Darcy’s best ideas. It wasn’t even part of her plan A to G. Her plans from A to G on a Friday consisted of going home early and watching whatever she fancied on Netflix. But Jane had a breakthrough and as her first and foremost newly-promoted lab assistant cum secretary cum lab wrangler, Darcy was bound by responsibility to stay with Janie through her new !Science period. But that wasn’t what she was complaining.

Tony needed better couches in the lab. A $10,000 couch didn’t equate to a good sleeping sofa. She cracked a crink in her neck, hearing her bones pop as she stretched with a yawn and took a large gulp of the cold, stale coffee with a grimace. There was something odd about the coffee. Darcy sniffed it and took a another mouthful of it. Something very wrong…

“What the fuck?” Darcy gagged, trying to claw the lingering taste on the tongue with top of her teeth. “Who touched my coffee?”

She tipped the brown liquid down the drain, washed it, poured a fresh brew and took a large gulp before gagging and spitting into the sink. If hot fluorescent pink had a taste, it would be the exact taste of coffee.

“WHO TOUCHED THE COFFEE?” she screeched, spinning around to one of the two lab assistants that only quivered under her sharp looks.

“Jarvis!”

“Yes, Miss Lewis?”

“Who spiked my coffee? It tastes like Red Bull and Monster.. and… and.. hot fluorescent pink,” she slammed the cup onto the table. 

“Sir has forbidden to inform you of the real perpetrator.”

Eyes narrowing, she scanned the lab, noticing Stark’s noticeably lack of presence. Oh Stark would have never been absent from labs, not when Jane just found a way to create a miniaturized Bifrost portal.

“Did he say who the real perpetrator was?”

There was a faint amusement and sarcasm in the AI’s voice when he replied, “The real perpetrator also has forbidden me to inform you of his whereabouts.”

Oh. Oh.

“Stark!!”

“Traitor!” A loud yell from behind Dum-E.

“I only live to serve, Sir,” Jarvis deadpanned.

Darcy closed on him. “Hi Stark. Meet Jolene,” a smile danced across her face as she brought up her taser and he whimpered.

“I can- Arrrrrggggghhhh.”

“Idiot,” Bruce muttered before turning back to his calculations.


	31. WinterCaptainQuake - the new cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: captainwinterquake- daisy brings home a 3 legged dog or cat?

_This is set after the events in Chp 31 of What about love?_

—-

It’s one in the morning when Skye reaches home. She’s a day earlier from her mission and she’s sneaking into the apartment for a good reason. See she found a three legged cat while taking the Centipede base down and well, there was no way she could leave it there.

Winter Bucky is sitting on the top of the bookshelf looking at her for a moment before jumping onto and waking Captain Steve up. The puppy wakes up startled though used to the cats’ constant disturbances. He leaps to her poised to begin his happy barking when Skye places her finger on her lips. 

Immediately he sits down in front of her, his tail thumping loudly on the hardwood floor. 

“Doll?” she heard Steve blearily call out.  

Skye hurries to find a place to hide their new cat but as she turns around with the cat in her hands, she catches Steve frowning at her.

He purses his lips and closes his eyes briefly. “Please tell me that’s not another cat.” 

Skye bites her lips, cuddling against the black and white cat, choosing to hold her peace instead. She sinks onto the sofa and Steve sits on the coffee table, holding her legs between his so that she can’t run from the conversation. 

“We talked about this, remember?” He folds his arms and levels her a look of resignation. “We can’t keep any more cats. Captain S already is eating by the truckload and what if some villain decides to kidnap our pets? Can you imagine me raising an Avengers’ assemble because someone kidnapped Winter B or White S?” 

“Well… that’s the good part,” Skye grins and holds out the cat. “Coulcatson here breathes fire.”

“You named your cat, _Coul_ cat _soN?”_  He mutters and then freezes. “Did you just say… breathes fire?”

Coulcatson sneezes, accidentally sends a cushion on fire.

“Why the fuck do I smell something burning?” they hear Bucky calling from the hallway. “Why the fuck is something burning here?” 

 


	32. Bucky/Darcy physically stuck together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt](http://luna-orlha.tumblr.com/post/142296819375/buckydarcy-physically-stuck-together-super)

If Darcy had a better sense of self-preservation, she would have gone mute the moment they handcuffed to Bucky, but really. If she had _any_  sense of self-preservation, she would have turned tailed the moment Thor landed and the fact she went for puppies in the middle of a life and death fight really everything that possibly could be said. 

At least that’s what Bucky thought of her. He had spoken to her apart from their first introductions. She reminded him far too much of the women he would take dancing with before the war and he wasn’t that man anymore - that starry, innocent man that he couldn’t imagine how he could have ever been. 

“You be glad that I didn’t bring my taser!” she yells at the door, pacing the three feet by three feet cell. “My taser is souped up by Stark!”

“I don’t think yelling is going to help,” Bucky says.

“Wait till Thor hears about this!” she huffs.

Bucky grunts as she jerks her right hand, the handcuffed hand, through her hair. “Sorry. So sorry,” she says upon realisation. “Fuck. This is awful.”

“Could be worse.” He could be not sharing a cell with a beautiful dame. He could be stuck in the chair waiting to be brainwashed again. He tries but fails to suppress the shudder as he recalls the chair.

The fact that Hydra left her with him as a way of making him compliant means that they didn’t read his files well. He’s really not surprised since their snot-faced brat was their leader. Bucky isn’t _just_  any ex-brainwashed assassin, he’s the one that trained every other one whether he had liked it or not. 

He tugs Darcy onto his lap, her back facing the one single camera that is on the same wall as the door. That’s their second mistake.

“What are you doing?” she starts and before she can start up a new tirade, he presses his lips to hers, kissing her senseless as his fingers ghost up her chest to her bra. 

“You’re wearing an underwire right?” he whispers into her ear, making sure his lips are covered by her hair. 

Darcy shivers and nods, finally catching on. She knows or should know his end-game, Bucky has watched over her basic defensive classes. He presses his lips down her neck as his left hand pulls the wire out. They continue the façade while he tries pick the lock of their handcuffs however for once, the incompetent fools had done something right. Not only is this lock a version that he’s seen in the Stark Tower, it’s unbreakable and that means super-soldier proof.

“Alrite, can’t break the locks, can’t pick the locks,” he tells her. Had he been alone, he would have simply broke down without a care of the bullets coming his way. Darcy’s human, fragile and it’s up to him to keep her safe.

“So plan B,” she comments, pulling back. Her eyes are dark and flushed from all the kissing.

“There’s no plan B. We’re going to wait for Stevie to break us out-” he says. 

She smiles, a smile so visceral that something in him jerks. In a swift movement, Darcy drags him to the door and motions to the camera which he obliges and tears it off with his flesh arm. 

She’s slamming the first guard that swings the door open, to the ground with her thighs, swiping the pistol and fire two into the one right behind. Bucky jerks forward as her right hand moves to incapacitate the third. 

Darcy stands, dusting herself off and says, “Shall we go?” She cackles and throws the rifle at him. Another group of guards are coming down one end of the corridor and taking them down would be easy were it not for their conjoined hands. But Darcy solves it. “Carry me, Bucky.”

“What?”

She rolls her eyes and puts his left hand onto her waist. “Carry me and run, and I’ll shoot. You need two legs and two hands for a rifle, you run faster than me, I’ll shoot on your back.”

He slings her across his shoulder, rapidly making their way to the exit as she shoots every last guard down. That’s when Bucky realises that if there was a sound of falling in love, that would be it - the sound of her laughter amidst the gunfire. 

But hey, who is to judge in this giant mess they call their lives?


	33. Daisy/Steve/Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt?](http://luna-orlha.tumblr.com/post/143215086050/prompt-how-about-daisy-going-back-to-the) How about Daisy going back to the afterlife to get some things and taking Steve&Bucky to the afterlife with her?

The house that her mother lived in had a layer of dust. Daisy stood at the doorway, jaw clenched so tightly that she could heard her teeth grinding.

She felt the two solid presences behind her anchoring her in the tide of swirling emotions. “Daisy,” Steve called her. His large hand settled at the small of her back, comforting her. He didn’t ask if she was okay, he didn’t have to, neither did Bucky who slipped his human hand into hers, letting her clench tightly onto him.

“You can do this,” Bucky murmured. 

Right. She’s killed her mother, wiped her father’s memory. She could do this. 

Daisy took a deep breath, trying to halt the stuttering in her ribs and took a step forward. Steve and Bucky stood at the doorway, Bucky scanning all the possible entrances and exits for a threat while Steve stood there, ready to aid her if she needed them. 

Wiping the dust from the photograph of her parents and her as a baby, Daisy allowed a ghost of a smile spread across her face.  The home, the family she searched for so long was not the one she thought she might have found. No, the family she wanted had always been with her two soul mates.

“I don’t need anything,” she said.

“Not even the photograph?” Steve asked, coming up behind her. She leant against him, his hand moving up to cradle her shoulders.

“No.” She turned to look at Bucky then glanced up at Steve. “Home is where you two are and that’s all I need.”


	34. Daisy/Steve - "let’s pretend I didn’t see you do that”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt](http://luna-orlha.tumblr.com/post/143060419690/48-for-daisysteve-pleased)

Daisy peeled the kevlar vest the moment she reached her apartment and dropped it onto the floor, quickly ripping her black shirt and pants and dropping them with the vest. It had been a very long and tiresome mission, one where she just wanted to gorge herself on some cake that she knew she left in the fridge three days ago and take a very long nap, preferably it didn’t really matter. 

She unclipped her bra, tossing it over and onto the couch and made a beeline for the fridge. Steve was due to return some time tomorrow afternoon so she would have time to clean her apartment and perhaps head over to his. 

The rainbow cake was there like she remembered and as she stood there contemplating on having energy to even pull the drawer open to get a fork, she heard a low rumbling rasp behind her, “let’s pretend I didn’t see you do that.”

 _No wait._ She recognized that cough. Daisy turned around slowly, closing her eyes at she took in the all too familiar tousled blond hair and blue eyes. 

“How long have you been there?” she asked.

“Since you got in… I was lying on the sofa waiting for you…” he said and held up her black bra, his eyes pointedly averted away from her. “Well… I was lying there until the bra landed on my face.” 

Damnit, they hadn’t even had sex yet. Sure they had done a lot of cuddling and making out but Steve wasn’t ready for the next step, to quote him, couples need to be together for at least a year before moving onto the next step. Daisy herself hadn’t been sure either, he was Captain America but she had been back-stabbed by the last three guys she dated - in a row. 

“I thought you were coming back tomorrow,” she said weakly, covering her breasts with her hands as she made her way to Steve to retrieve her bra. 

“That was yesterday. Your mission was…” he accidentally turned his head, eyes flickering to her lips and her very exposed breasts. “…delayed…” he choked out. He dropped the bra onto the floor, one hand cupping her waist, the other cupping the back of her neck as he drew her into his very warm chest. His lips entangling with hers. Daisy could feel his tongue on the seam of her lips and tasted black coffee as she parted her lips. Her hand snaking into his, tilting her face as much as she could to kiss him better.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against her lips, his hands lifting her body up onto the table counter. “So beautiful.” He kissed her breasts and she arched against him with a soft moan, feeling the bulge against his chino pants.

“Take me to the bedroom,” she gasped, winding her legs around his waist. “Hurry.”

Palming her ass, Steve carried her to the bedroom as fast as he could with the bulge in his pants.


	35. Bucky/Darcy - “you can’t run so it’ll be faster if I just carry you”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt](http://luna-orlha.tumblr.com/post/143058294150/30-buckydarcy)

Bucky took a step and had to breath shallowly though his mouth. The scream threatened the escape his tightly clenched jaws with each limp. The logical route of action was to sit and wait for help to come but they couldn’t afford to wait. He leant heavily onto Darcy’s shoulders and jerked violently as his wounded leg landed on a loose rock, falling to the ground with a loud thud. 

Darcy stood over him, staring at him pensively then scanned their surroundings. “Look,” she pursed her lips together before licking them nervously. “You can’t run so it’ll be faster if I just carry you.”

He let out a short, almost tremulous chuckle. "Darce, you couldn’t even carry my legs even if you wanted to.” She held a finger up and disappeared into the bushes.

Bucky had told her to run ahead many days ago since they escaped the Hydra base, but she had been adamant in not leaving him. Now he wondered if she had left him. After all that they had gone through and the increasingly possibility of Hydra finding them again, he wouldn’t fault her for being scared. Hell, just the idea of going back to into the hands of Hydra sent him into a panic attack.

It felt like almost an hour later when Darcy reappeared much to Bucky’s relief. He knew he couldn’t make it back himself regardless of how super his serum was and by experience, his broken leg was definitely going to take a full week before he could put anything on it.

“Okay, I can’t carry you, but I can certainly wheel you and that’s going to be helluva faster than you limping,” Darcy said, proudly brandishing the wheelbarrow that they both had seen a mile back in that wooden shack. 

It was as good as a plan as it was going to be. Just… he getting wheeled to their extraction point in a wheelbarrow made his stomach somersault. 

“Let’s hope none of the guys are going to see this,” he muttered and gingerly set himself in the wheelbarrow, his long legs almost touching the ground.  


	36. Steve finds out Darcy is an inhuman.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt](http://luna-orlha.tumblr.com/post/142793733870/steve-finds-out-darcy-is-an-inhuman-you-pick-her)
> 
> This prompt is with nonies’ prompt 
> 
> “Can I prompt you to write a little something about a Darcy Quintemancer? Maybe keeping with the pairing of the original prompt?”

They’re in the middle of a raid of another Hydra base when Tony zooms past them in the opposite direction of the base.

“Get back on the plane!” he almost screams into the comms. 

“Stark, what is going on?” Steve slings the shield across his back and starts running towards the plane.  He’s never heard Stark express such fear in mid-battle even when he had a hole in his stomach. 

“The tower is under attack. That’s why!”

His heart stutters at Stark’s words, remembering how he left Darcy asleep in their bedroom, their clothes strewn over with the promise to finish when he gets back. If the tower was under attack, Darcy might be still asleep. 

The ramp raises before he reaches and Steve jumps, vaulting himself into the plane just before it shuts behind him. “Do we know who?”

“Jarvis managed to get divert himself before he was locked down. I’m assuming it’s Hydra again or Ultron…”

Neither of the possibilities are good. Not to mention that the only security personnel apart from Maria and her agents is Pepper. It is not that he doesn’t trust Pepper and her extremis serum, it’s just that Pepper is a civilian despite all her serum. 

All communication from the tower is down and even though Steve desperately redials Darcy’s number, it just rings on and on. He sits on the cold metal bench, hands gripping the safety harness  tightly.

“You’re going to bend the metal,” Barton tells him. 

Taking a breath, Steve forces himself to release the metal clasp, settling his hands over his shield instead - something he knows that will not bend under his grip.

“They’ll be fine,” Banner assures him, his words belying the slight green tinge under Banner’s skin.

—-

“I have good and bad news,” Stark’s voices echoes though the speakers. “Not sure which you old people want first, but I decided to go with the bad news. The bad news is that, it is most definitely Ultron because I kind of see his body or rather _bodies_ on the ground which is the good news… but we seem to have newcomers into the superhero gig, and man, this newcomer is one hell of fighter-”

“Stark, get on with it!” Steve yells, tearing the harness off and striding angrily towards the cockpit. 

Stark pulls throttle levers, the plane descending smoothly onto the landing pad. Stark’s right, whoever who stopped Hydra was one hell of a fighter. Littered along the landing pad and ground are countless of bodies that were all seemingly shredded by the weave of tree trunks and tiny creatures milling around the trunks. He braces himself for the creatures or trunks to attack him as they seem to react to Ultron’s presence but they merely ignore him and all the other avengers.

“Tony?” Pepper says questioningly, squinting in the darkness as they step through the trunks to make way into what used to be their communal living room. The attack has appeared to knock out the power grid so in spite of the growing darkness, there are no overhead lights, only that strange glowing bobble that follows above Pepper. “Tony!” she leaps for him and Tony catches her, swinging her around to stop them from tumbling. 

A frisson of fear crawls up Steve’s spine as he tries to catch a glimpse of Darcy among the mess. “Where’s Darcy?”

“She’s fine,” Pepper tells him reassuringly, “she’s just down the hallway, along the windows…”

Steve dashes across the room, jumping over the large trunk. Another Ultron bot flies through the shattered window. He doesn’t pause, throwing his shield with ice-point accuracy, flipping to dodge the flying parts as the shield cuts through the bot’s armor and catching it while he rolls into a land. 

Only Darcy’s name repeats in his mind. The fear of finding her injured or worse dead knots his stomach.

He skids to a stop just as he espies Darcy by the window, his breath catches in his lungs. “Darce?” he calls out in disbelief. 

She dodges the Ultron bot, her hands flying up in time with the trunk that sprouts from the ground, wrists turning as the trunk wraps itself around the bot, immobilising the robot. Above her float tiny globular lights, casting an auerate glow to her. Darcy turns, her blue eyes luminous in the darkness, her mouth widening into an ‘O’. 

“Did you just direct the trunks?”

“Steve? You’re here!” She says to change the subject. “And just in time too!”

“Darcy, did you just direct the trunks?” he presses.

Darcy gives him a tight-lipped smile, squaring her shoulders as she answers him, “I kinda wanted to tell you earlier? I just didn’t know how. You know like. Heeeeeeyyyy… Steve, I’m a quintemancer and I can create biological life with a wave of my hands. Well not human kids, those are kinda freaky, I like unicorns and baby wolves but it’s kinda tiring creating them, so I stuck to trees and-” 

He cuts her babble off with his lips. Her returning kiss is so hard and forceful that it takes Steve by surprise. “Not scared of me?” she shyly asks when they draw apart.

“No.” He holds her tight to his body. Darcy wiggles a little and he groans. 

“Is that…” A grin plays on her face as she looks up at him through hooded eyes. “You standing at attention?”

Steve groans again, “Darcy…” He captures her lips, sucking on her bottom lip. “You’ve no idea how much it’s a turn on watching you fight.”

“Oooh, I have a _goood_  idea,” she smirks, hand inching closer below. “A real good idea.”


	37. "Tell me who hurt you" Bucky/Darcy?

There was a large bruise blooming across Darcy’s face as he came out of the elevator. Bucky stalked across the communal room and to the kitchen counter where she was making coffee. 

“Tell me who hurt you,” he said with thinly veiled anger in his baritone. 

“I slammed against the wall, that’s all,” she rolled her shoulders and tried to brush past him. 

But Bucky wasn’t about going to let it go. Grabbing her elbow as she moved past him, his eyes took in how she flinched from his actions.  “Is it Ian? No it has to be,” he dropped her elbow and strode towards the elevator. 

Darcy grabbed him, futilely trying to stop him. “Bucky, please.”

“No man should raise a hand against a woman,” he growled. “If the bastard doesn’t know that, then I should knock some sense into him.”

“It’s not him. I slammed into a wall, Bucky. I really did.”

“Doll,” he took a step towards her, gently touching the print. “This is a hand print. There’s no way a _wall_  has a hand.”

“I left him, Buck!” 

“Finally, the loser boy had it coming all along,” he sneered. “I’m not going to let this go just because you left him. I don’t care what they say about equality-”

Darcy placed her hand over his, beads of tears lining her large eyes. “I left him for you, Bucky.”

“Me?” he blinked, stupidly repeating her words. Joy and fear rose him in, blocking out the panic that began bubbling in him. “Why?” he shook his head. “I’m happy you left him, but why for me?”

“Don’t you get it? This _thing_ we’re doing, we’re not best friends. I realised I wanted more from this friendship for a while now. I thought I was happy with Ian, but it turns out the thing that made me happy was you all along.”

She took a step into his space and Bucky could smell her shampoo, her sweet scent that haunted him when she left his place after a movie marathon. 

“I’m not a good man, Darcy. You know that.”

She cocked her head, dropping her hand from his. “Are you going to hit me as well?”

“Never,” he replied hoarsely.

“Then you’re good enough.”

She tilted her face up, staring at him through hooded eyes. Gently, he bent forward, pressing his lips against her soft, full lips. The sweetest thing Bucky had ever tasted since the 1940s and nothing as exquisite as this.


	38. “Take my hand, I got you.” Bucky x Darcy

Darcy reaches out for his outstretched arm and her grip on the bar slips a little more. “Bucky!” she shrieks, gripping the bar tightly with both hands again. “I’m sorry I said I didn’t love you anymore! I didn’t mean it!”

“Don’t worry, Куколка, you’ll be fine,” he tells her reassuring. His hands fiddle with the straps and lowers himself even further. This time instead of making her reach for him, he swings the cord and grabs her in mid-swing

“If I die here, I just want you to know that I love you!” She screams when they dip a little.

“Don’t talk like that. I got you.” She can see the light reflecting in his eyes as he crinkles and smiles.

A loud cough from above interrupts them and a smirk, coy and triumph tugs at Clint’s lips. “If you’re done talking about dying from a ceiling, which I assure you, you will not even if it’s a Stark room ceiling… I’d like to pull you two up now.”


	39. Darcy's some small time supernatural being Steve x Darcy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt](http://luna-orlha.tumblr.com/post/142513342060/darcys-some-small-time-supernatural-being-steve-x)

Darcy’s favourite movie is Aladdin. Contrary to the team’s belief, it is not because it’s Disney. She does however love all the Disney movies along with Princess Bride, but it’s not related to the reasoning why Aladdin is her favourite. Darcy’s walked the earth for so long that she forgets how she came about and Aladdin reminds her of it every time.

And all that changes on a Sunday afternoon.

The man she hadn’t seen for such a long time sit on her couch, drinking her soda. Steve immediately pulls her behind him, his shoulders stiffening as he addresses the man. “Who are you and what are you doing in our apartment?”

“Laqad marr waqt tawil, habibi,” he says to Darcy with a soft look in his eyes. _(It’s been a long time, my love)_

“Do you know this man?” Steve asks, exchange fervent glances between the both of them. Darcy grips his arm tightly, trying to find the words she cannot speak.

“Laqad marr waqt tawil,” she says back to the man and shakes her head. “Ikn habibi ‘ana Im yaeud.” _(It’s been a long time, but I am no longer your love.)_

Her story ended such a long time ago that she’s forgotten she’s not an immortal.

The man looks sad, averting his eyes to scrutinize Steve. “Hello,” he says to Steve. “It was rude of me to ignore you, I apologise for my impoliteness. I am Omar Kokan Al Din. She’s made a good choice.” He holds his hand and Steve reciprocates by gripping his hand tightly.

“What are you to Darcy?” He has not missed the look that could only be described one in love directed at Darcy.

“I am Aladdin…?” Aladdin frowns at him and snaps to Darcy. “Have you not told him anything?”

“It doesn’t matter. I chose not to renew. He doesn’t need to know.”

“Yes he does. You _know_ he does. Just because you choose to not return to Jasmine and me, it doesn’t relieve of _his_ responsibility, _your_ responsibility. You know that this path you’re going down on has a certainty of death and he _needs_ to know, ya amar, you can’t just pretend it doesn’t exist.” _(ya amar - Beautiful)_

“Death? What is going on?” Steve asks.

“Please let me tell him.”

Aladdin sighs loudly with a rueful smile and climbs onto the fire escape. “Three days, ya amar.”

With Aladdin gone, she’s left with Steve. He stands there in the middle of living room, his back rigid with tension like he’s just come out of a fight. She should have told Aladdin earlier of her decision, told him to meet her somewhere else. Darcy can’t pretend that the decades of lack of communication has pushed Aladdin out of her mind.

“Explain.” There is not a speck of softness in his voice when he speaks. She’s heard him talk like that before, that one time when he chided Tony. It wasn’t Steve Rogers speaking, it was Captain America then. How had things gone so wrong?

“It’s hard. Hard to figure where to start and strange,” Darcy runs a hand through her hair, wanting nothing more than to run away from this entire conversation. If Steve is like any of the other guys, she might have just baulked and ran.

“Then start from the beginning.”

“That’s the problem. I don’t know the beginning.” Darcy takes a deep breath and lifts her eyes slowly to meet his gaze. His blue eyes are hard, just like the deep furrow between his eyebrows but it’s not Captain America, it’s Steve Rogers.

“What do you mean by that?”

She wonders what he is thinking, wonders if several worst case scenarios are running through his mind. “It’s not like that,” she says softly, holding out a hand hesitantly. The look on his face makes her want to hold him tight but at the same time, it’s her causing him his distress. She’s not sure if he is receptive to her touch right now. “I don’t remember how I became to that,” her voice shakes as she remembers the little bottle that she spent centuries in. “I don’t remember if I was anything before that. But centuries ago, a man named Aladdin found me. In a lamp.”

“A lamp.”

“I’m a jinn, damnit.” She palms her forehead and walks into the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of red wine. “I _used_ to be a jinn. Magic powers, grant you seven wishes. That kind of shit. Then Aladdin freed me with his last wish. He wasn’t supposed to you see. Jinns, we have an enormous amount of power in us. Powers that can change and destroy dimensions, time, realms. The one way to free me was to bury the powers, renew the cycle of powers every few decades. Without renewing, I essentially become a mortal. I grow old, I die. Just like a normal human.” She blows out a heavy breath and closes her eyes. She can feel Steve inch closer to her, wrapping a muscled arm around her waist.

“He said my responsibility, your responsibility? What did he mean by that?”

Darcy licks her lips. She really didn’t want this conversation. “When I die… my power will become free. Anyone who takes the lamp can retrieve the powers of a Jinn. Not only that… Aladdin is a good man, uncorrupted by powers. With Aladdin and me, the buried powers are balanced, equal to what it would be when I’m… in the lamp. It’s not fair for him to keep living to guard the lamp when I’m allowed to grow old… and die. We agreed that if I found a good man, uncorrupted by power…”  She fought the rising blush, gulping the glass of red wine as she continued, “that it’d become him and his descendants to carry on guarding the lamp.”

Steve nods and presses a kiss on her clavicle. He doesn’t say anything for the longest time. It’s a lot to process and frankly, if he runs the hell away, Darcy isn’t going to think any less of him. “I’m sorry,” she tells him. “I should have said something soon, stayed away or something. It’s just that for the first time in my long life, I was truly happy. I wanted to hold onto it. I wasn’t willing to walk away from being with you. I told myself I had to. That the responsibility for any one was too much. Aladdin is rare. He was judged by the cave itself and walked out unscathed. I couldn’t do the same to anyone. But I just wanted that tiny piece of happiness like Jasmine and Aladdin-“

He pulls her in, silencing her babble with a kiss, pressing harder as she sucked at his lips. “Darcy,” he breathes in a husky voice later, leaning his forehead against hers. “I’m glad you chose me. Glad you didn’t walk away.” Steve presses a kiss on the back of her neck, banding his arms around her. “Glad you told me now. But have you ever thought that maybe I’d be okay with it?”

“Okay with guarding the lamp for as long as you live?” Darcy doesn’t dare to hope. She doesn’t know how long his serum would last or how if he would even live long enough for him to watch her grow old. That has been one of the pain reasons she has not brought it up

“If I took Aladdin’s place. Balanced the power with you. Then you wouldn’t have to grow and die.”

“And neither would you.”

“I’m willing to do that as long as I have this dame in my arms,” he grins cheekily.

“No but seriously. In order to take the ownership of the lamp, you need by judged by the cave.” She brushes her fingers onto his cheeks, her blue eyes catching his blue eyes. “There’s only be one recorded man who lived to tell the tale, Steve.”

“I lived the serum. I figured why not? I rather go down fighting for my girl than to walk away for her. Never ran from a fight, not going to start now.” He pauses, lips tugging thoughtfully. “Hey so, Aladdin? As in you two sold the story to Disney?”

Darcy looks sheepishly. “Actually the person who wrote it was Aladdin and Jasmine’s second born. Hamdan was very nice kid.”


End file.
